


Silk

by nightcreeping



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Comfort, Blowjobs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mad Men - Freeform, Multi, One Shot, Rape, no beta we die like men, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcreeping/pseuds/nightcreeping
Summary: Ken Cosgrove's knees were hurting.
Relationships: Ken Cosgrove/Chevy Exec, Ken Cosgrove/Don Draper
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> something i've had sitting around for a very long time, pretty much a conglomerate of other Ken Cosgrove fic's. His generally passive attitude during the show made me inclined to write this.

Ken Cosgrove's knees were hurting.

Kneeling in a dark Detroit hotel room with three men well past their alchohol limit was beginning to place a strain on his legs, and Ken knew they would give out soon.

_Maybe I could ask them to move. Funny._

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand grabbing at the side of his face, yanking it away from one red monster and to another. The room smelled sickly hot.

"Come on, come oon." A stale breathe cooed, as if he was a kid and not a man down on his knees sucking the cocks of the three company executives. Ken looked up through his good eye to meet eyes with the man above him. He thinks his name is Dave. Dave has ruddy skin an mouse-gray hair that was almost gone, and a beer gut to match.

_Figures._

The Chevy execs were always ready to load him up with alcohol, and Ken didn't mind cause it lessened the headaches and quieted the itching voice in the back of his mind. He didn't really mind anything they did to him, after all it was his job. If they wanted him to drive at 80 miles an hour with hands covering his eyes, it was his job. If they wanted to shoot a gun off two inches from his face, it was his job. And if they wanted to drug him one night and fuck his pink pretty mouth, it was his job.

 _It was really only a matter of time before something like this happened,_ Ken lamented as he took Dave in his mouth. He gagged when Daves hips thrusted forward quickly, and the hands in his hair pulled hard enough to hurt.

His bad eye twitched.

The first time they decided to use Amyl-Nitrate, pushing a beer towards him, all smiles and chuckles. Being the good natured SCDP representative he is, he took the beer. It was only till later, when they were "helping" him to his room and waving off the concerned bellhop that Ken knew the other shoe had dropped.

The Chevy executives wanted something out of every deal, and right now Ken was the deal for their business. Drag him around to whatever they wanted to, a personal play toy.

Ken had woken up the next day at 1 pm with a sore back and the taste of musk in his mouth, and he knew this sort of thing would repeat.

The next time they offered him a beer, he drank it down immediately.

\------

As Ken sucked each mans cock he thought about Don, clever, intelligent Don who put him on the Chevy account. Him and Don had already started an affair, secret meetings in the break room and overtime on monday nights, neither wanting to go back to their american dream waiting at home.

He hadn't really expected Don to want him, hadn't really expected to want Don himself. Ken was straight, he knew, seeing Annie Hopkins underwear in the fifth grade confirmed that, but there was something about Don. Something about that broad expanse of shoulder, or that unreadable face, things he never really thought about till Don was drunk and two inches away from his face at a christmas party.

It continued from there, and Ken knew he liked it. He was useful, and useful wasn't fired from the company. The head of accounts didn't have to really worry about being fired, but a the extra security was comforting. Plus he loved to see Campbells stupid little face when Don took his side in disagreements.

Don was easy to please, he wanted what everyman wanted, simple sexual gratification. He was patient with Ken, teaching him how to keep his tounge down and tilt so he didn't choke. It was a job to him, but sometimes Ken could swear Don husked his voice out with a little bit more than academic indication.

 _Maybe Don and them are a bit similar,_ Ken thought,

But he knew with Don it was different. Through the rough and controlling hands there was always some sense of appreciation. A pat on the cheek, or a "good job," something to know his efforts were appreciated. Don was the boss, a man to be respected in his clean cut hair and shining cufflinks. His sexual urges followed suit.

He recalls how softly Draper would grasp at his hair, complimenting its touch and color.

The Chevy execs would never do that, all lecherous and grubby, clawing at his mouth to get it open and stick it in.


	2. Chapter 2

When Don realized what had happened he was furious, of course.

The new secretary opened his door, and Ken scrambled to pretend like he was doing work. She didn't seem to care and glanced down at the notes on her clipboard.

"Draper wants you in his office"

"Ok," Ken said, not looking up as he organized different magazines on his desk.

She lingered a moment, hand in her hair, till Ken glared up at her.

"He said he wants you now."

Ken nodded and she smiled apologetically as she closed the door.

The door to Dons office was slightly open, and Ken let himself in. Don was staring out the window.

His voice disrupted the silence.

"Close the door"

Ken was caught a bit off guard and replied unsteadily "okay Don." He closed the door quietly and moved closer to the desk.

"Hey Don what is this ab-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ken faltered.

He should've seen this coming, he really should. The routine days off after his trips to Detroit and the purple coloring on his neck that makeup could just cover, they where all things Don knew. He came from a background of hard, bitter, knowledge, a whore house and several failed ingagements as insight. Perhaps that's why their unspoken arrangement had worked so well, Ken was there, and Don knew how to push just enough to keep him solid.

His wilingness to get down on his knees, he realized, only came into fruition after he had taken the Chevy account, and he almost laughed at the irony of it. But the sardonic nature of his actions couldn't help him now, and the silence was becoming almost painful.

Ken bit back what would've sounded like anguish and answered through his teeth.

"I was supposed to keep the account, sir. That was my job"

Drapers voice was incredulous. "You know you didn't have fucking to do that" 

He wheeled around to face Cosgrove, staring at him as if he could get the answer he wanted written on Kens face.

Kens good eye blinked several times, and he found himself struggling to maintain eye contact. He felt a twinge of pain in his bad eye.

"Keep the customers happy, right? Isn't that what you said? His voice was weak, but leveled, and Ken found a sense of confidence in it.

Don expression was almost unreadable with anger, and he stalked towards Ken who moved back like a cornered animal.

His breathing remained shallow till he hit the wall, trapping him in a familiarly claustrophobic position.

_ Don Drapers a strong man. Don Drapers the boss. He could have me fired, or sent to Chevy permentantly, i'm an invalid. _

Two hands slamming by his head brought him back to the present.

Dons face was inches away from his own, he could almost smell the fine alcohol and cigarettes on his breath.

"Don," He whispered

"What."

Ken could barely manage to control his breathing, his bad eye pulsed and ached. He didn't even notice he was shaking till Don had grabbed his face, steadying it.

"Look at me."

Ken knew he had to obey.

Don searched his eyes for a moment and then suddenly-

His head was pressed against Dons chest, and two tense arms where holding him. One hand came up to pet his hair, soft.

"You don't have to do that." Dons repeated words where soft this time, carrying a heavy resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have the next and finally chapter coming soon 👍


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Don's calming words Ken was still stressed. Ken willed his body to relax, counting the seconds between each breath. No such luck. 

Thankfully, Don seemed to realize this and stepped back. 

When Ken met Dons' eyes he wanted to crawl under a rug. They had a cold somber tone to them, and the knit eyebrows and defeated frown only furthered the presentation. 

Pity. 

Ken knew it well. He knew it when the guys at the firm clapped a hand to his back when he was almost fired. When his wife told him "too bad" about his writing career. 

When he walked into work his first day as a goddamn cyclops. 

Ken averted his eye, sighing with a tremble that was equal parts anger and sadness. His hands hardened into fists at his side, and he felt his face heat up as his eyesight became blurry. 

Don shifted, and when Ken looked back up he saw Don at the mini bar, mixing something amber and clear. Back turned to him, just as mysterious and expansive as ever. Don turned back, holding out one of two drinks to Ken. 

Ken just shook his head. He didn't want alcohol. 

Don nodded in acknowledgment and sat on the office couch, knocking back his drink. He placed the empty crystal glass on the floor and clasped his hands together. 

Without looking at Ken he said, 

"Can you tell me about it?" 

Ken blanched at the question, wanting to shift around. He settled for making his way to the couch and claiming the far end. 

Don made no moves, still staring straight forward. Ken tried to look for whatever it was Don was looking at but the opposing gray wall remained painfully bare. 

The silence was deafening, and Kens thoughts raced. His mind ran through a visual of all his encounters, both with the chevy reps and Don.

_ All I do is offer myself up to others. Rented out like a two-bit whore .  _

This isn't something that should be happening to him, he was a man for christ's sake. A man with a wife and a house and a baby on the way. A man with dignity. 

_ This is what happens to people like Joan.  _

The thought just made Ken angry, and that anger gave him the strength to reply to Don. 

"Do you really want to know?" Ken finally answered, bitter and tense. 

He looked to Don, startled to see that sometime during the silence Don had turned to look at him. 

"Yes. I do." Don replied softly. 

Ken faltered under Dons gaze and felt like he understood how all those women came to fall for him.

Once more his anger retreated into shame. 

His eye found home once more in the floors beige carpeting. 

"Well, uh. I went out with them to the bar, after, you know..." Ken gestured to his patch. 

"They gave me something. In, in my beer. I guess to make me more,  _manageable_ , or something." Ken swallowed. He could see Dons jaw clench. "I got kinda hot and dizzy after a bit, and then next thing I remember I was in my room with them." 

Kens voice faded, not wanting to go into detail. 

"I guess they really liked me cause it happened a couple more times after that. I told them eventually they just shouldn't drug me and I'd do it for free." 

This is where the shame really kicked in. Kens hands fiddled in his lap, and the burning behind his eyes only increased. He agreed to them. He chose this. 

Don was silent for a moment, and his eyes moved as if scanning the pages of a book. He was silent in contemplation.

Draper ran a hand through his hair, and Ken thought back to every time he had seen Don in trouble. Tricky pitches usually, but he never emoted more than a forceful tone or stone face. An adjustment in his chair, a quick smoothing of his lapels. 

Not this. Not thrumming with a nervous energy that paralleled his own. 

It reminded him of the phantom Don, the one stumbled in drunk and possessed the rumors secretaries traded. The one that hid behind corporate doors and plastic plants. 

Don hesitated before he spoke. 

"Are you ok? Do you need to see a doctor?." 

Kens stomach dropped as he imagined all the women Don had probably asked the same question. 

He screwed his eyes shut, pressing them into his palms. 

"I feel fucking disgusting," Ken said through clenched teeth. He could feel himself hardening back into the repressed coal of rage, forgetting the deflated carcass of embarrassment that he seemed to embody so often. The afterimage of someone who could actually get mad, who could actually remember to be  someone . 

He could feel Don move on the couch, sink back into it with a defeated sigh. 

Ken had the sickening feeling that Don didn't know what to do.

What was he supposed to say? 

It'll be alright? Hold him close with the tenderness that a husband holds his wife? Gently shuffle the children to the playroom and quiet them with ice-cream? Send him to bed with a kiss to the brow and call the authorities?

The thought was asinine. 

There would be no reprieve for Ken. Would be no salvation. 

_ I'll keep doing this until I die.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to end it on a sad note.. I guess I just couldn't muster the motivation to write and additional chapter.


End file.
